


Neckstroke of Doom

by eff_reality



Series: Armani video-inspired ficlets [5]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was <a href="http://31.media.tumblr.com/f9d16bdcf427faa3a51602e644de532f/tumblr_n7y5qfQoyn1t47tkuo1_500.gif">this gif</a> from the Armani video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neckstroke of Doom

All it takes is two fingers down the hollow of Chris’ throat for Zach to send everyone home. 

It’s the second night of Zach’s first extended stay in LA in months, and they’re gathered around the outdoor table of Chris’ beautifully refurbished home with what feels like half of their collective group of friends. Zach had insisted on having a dinner party in his honor, and after wine and barbecue, dessert, and now coffee, Chris has clearly had it. Zach knows that nights like these can be exhausting for him in general. He’ll usually start finding excuses to leave the room about now: dishes to soak or garbage to dispose.

There’s something other than fatigue to his antsiness tonight, however. He hasn’t budged from his seat since bringing out the pies, and his bare foot’s taken up residence under one of the cuffs of Zach’s jeans, big toe drawing little circles around his ankle. (Zach had sent him a reassuring wink over the rim of his coffee cup: _I’ll kick them out soon._ )

He’s anxious as hell to get Chris alone again, too. This is the first time in years of missteps, miscommunication, and bullshit that they’ve finally gotten it together to be an actual couple, officially—in private, but officially. So while it’s only been weeks since Chris’ last visit to New York, Zach still feels like he needs to make up for close to a decade of being without him.

They still have a lot to figure out.

The day before had been incandescent. Chris had fastened himself to him the minute they got in the door from the airport, hands buried in Zach’s hair and feet clumsily toeing off his shoes as his tongue curled up and into Zach’s mouth, happy little moans vibrating out of the back of his throat and getting Zach hard in seconds. When Zach had finally gotten with the program, he’d nearly carried Chris down the hall to the master bedroom, at which point Chris had dropped to his knees and pressed his nose and mouth against the front of Zach’s jeans, gazing imploringly up at him with those fucking eyes. “Make me feel it,” he’d said.

Zach had definitely obliged, and not just by fucking Chris so hard and deep that he white-knuckled the duvet and came with clenched teeth, without even being touched. He’d made sure to leave marks wherever he could, namely on either side of Chris’ clavicle, right where his shirt is covering just now.

So when Chris meets his eyes and lets his fingertips drift right down the center of his collar bones, threatening to expose those gorgeous bruises, one thick brow raised in challenge, Zach pushes abruptly away from the table, the scratch of his chair against the pavement making everyone fall silent. He tamps down the urge to blurt, _Okay, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. Get the fuck out._

Chris bites his lip, already reaching to clear the cream and sugar.


End file.
